Mother's Gifts
by Little Polveir
Summary: A story of Shelagh and Sister Julienne's relationship, beginning with a missing scene from Series 3 Episode 4. I'm just borrowing these lovely characters.
1. Chapter 1

"Put it away out of sight" Patrick had said.

"If only it were that simple" Shelagh thought.

Numerous times over the previous few weeks she had folded the tiny nightdress into as small a size as she could manage, hiding it under things, inside others, trying to make it completely invisible. But as soon as she had put it out of sight, a feeling of desperate longing overwhelmed her. Every tiny cross stitch which she had put into it felt like one step closer to the longed-for child who would wear it. As the nightdress took form in her hands, their baby took form in her womb. She had to go and find it, delicately unfold it and hold it. She would put it against her face, imagining smell and warmth of the newborn who should have been wearing it. A warm feeling spread through her body, from the pit of her stomach, through her chest, up to her face and down her arms. The world, for a moment, was perfect. Her blissful moment would then be disturbed by the choking thought that these sensations were nothing more than her imagination running wild, and the terrible realisation that this nightdress would never be worn by her child broke her spirit. Swallowing her emotions and blinking back tears, she would fold the nightdress minutely small again and return it to the drawer.

She knew that this behaviour could not continue. She needed to move on, accept the events which had befallen her. She needed to love the husband and step-son which God had already given her, "I have more of a family now than I ever thought possible" she thought "Some women don't even have that, I must be grateful." She wondered what Sister Julienne would suggest. She sighed at the thought of her. She had not yet told her, the one other person in the world she desperately wanted to know, about her diagnosis, and had been struggling with raising the issue with her. It then dawned on her. She could take the nightdress to Nonnatus to put in the Sister's charity box, and tell Sister Julienne. She could kill two birds with one stone. Making sure that neither Patrick nor Timothy were looking, she removed the nightdress from the drawer, wrapped it in a brown paper bag and put it into her handbag. She kissed her two boys goodbye as they left for work and school, and then set off to Nonnatus House.

She arrived at Nonnatus House and knocked on the large wooden door. Sister Monica Joan let her in before scampering off down the hall to the kitchen muttering about cake. Shelagh crept quietly towards Sister Julienne's office, trying not to be noticed by anyone else. As much as she loved the nurses and the other sisters, they were not who she wanted to see at the moment. She needed her mother. She stood outside Sister Julienne's open door for a moment, composed herself and shuffled in.

"My dear!" Sister Julienne said when she saw Shelagh. A warm glow radiated from her face at the sight of her visitor.

"Sister Monica Joan let me in." Shelagh said "I wanted to give you something, for the charity box."

Shelagh removed the paper bag from her handbag and handed it to Sister Julienne. The nun took the bag, pressed in with her fingers, then put one hand inside the bag. Shelagh's breath caught in her throat as Sister Julienne removed the nightdress and, holding it by one of the tiny shoulders, let the white material fall open. Sister Julienne looked at the nightdress and then to Shelagh. The warm expression was still on Sister Julienne's face, but Shelagh was oblivious to her reactions, she could not look at her.

"It's lovely Shelagh," Sister Julienne said, assuming it was one which Timothy had worn as a baby. "It looks like it's hardly…" It suddenly dawned on Sister Julienne and she felt the warmth and the colour drain from her face. She looked at Shelagh, whose beautiful blue eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Oh Shelagh" she gasped "It…it hasn't been worn has it?"

Shelagh could not respond verbally, all she could do was snuggle herself into Sister Julienne's habit. Sister Julienne wrapped both arms around Shelagh, resting her cheek on the side of Shelagh's head.

"Ssssssssssh" she whispered in Shelagh's ear. "I'm here, it's alright."

"I know." Shelagh whimpered.

"Do you want to talk?" Sister Julienne enquired. There was a warm and affectionate tone to her voice, as a mother would address her distraught daughter. She felt Shelagh nod her head against her chest. "Come on, sweetheart" she said, breaking the embrace and taking Shelagh's hand, leading her over to a chair at her desk. "I will get some tea and cake and then I will listen to all you have to say."

Five minutes later, Sister Julienne returned with a tray laden with a pot of tea, two cups and saucers, two tea plates and a larger plate overflowing with Mrs B.'s homemade cakes and biscuits. She poured her and Shelagh's tea and put one slice of cake on her plate, and three slices on Shelagh's. Shelagh giggled at the sight of her plate. "My name isn't Monica Joan, you know!" They sat in silence for a few moments. Sister Julienne had no intention of forcing Shelagh to talk, and Shelagh knew that she would have to speak first. Eventually, she plucked up the courage to speak.

"The nightdress has never been worn. I began making it just after we got married, naturally assuming, that marriage automatically preceded a baby. We knew straight away that we wanted to have a baby so we began…" she felt herself blush. "Well, we…"

"You didn't waste any time!" Sister Julienne finished the sentence for her. "I may be a nun, but remember I'm a midwife," she continued, seeing the look on Shelagh's face.

Shelagh smiled and continued. "We sent a pregnancy test off to The London, but it came back negative, even though I hadn't had a cycle for three months. I knew something was wrong, so I saw a friend of Patrick's at Harley Street, and he did an exploratory operation…"

"Why did you not tell me you were having surgery?" Sister Julienne interrupted,

"I didn't want you to worry about me" Shelagh replied, a wave of guilt rolling over her. "The operation showed that my bout of TB had not just affected my lungs, but had led to scarring…" She paused. Despite being a midwife for her whole adult life, she still felt uncomfortable talking about her own body to others "…down there. I won't be able to have children. So please, give the nightdress to a mother who needs it." She took a few deep breaths. "It won't be required at the Turners."

Tears were rolling down Shelagh's face. Sister Julienne reached out and held her hands, stroking the back of them with her thumbs. Sister Julienne had read about the effects of TB, and knew it could be detrimental. But, being a woman of God, she believed that miracles could happen. As she stroked Shelagh's hand she offered a silent prayer, hoping that what the young woman in front of her would not suffer the fate which she seemed convinced would occur.

"I'm scared, Sister." Shelagh said after a moment.

"Why dear?" Sister Julienne replied,

"When Dr. Turner and I married, I was so certain what my life would be, just as sure as I was when I took my vows, but now, I don't feel sure of anything, I can't picture the future at all." A wave of despair flooded across her face, the remaining sparkle left her blue eyes.

"In the past year your life has changed unrecognisably," Sister Julienne said matter-of-factually. "It's understandable that you looked for certainties."

"Perhaps I was greedy" Shelagh sighed "I was given so much and I wanted more"

"Do not begin to think of your childlessness as a punishment," Sister Julienne replied, with an almost unrecognisable sternness "I won't allow it"

"Thank you" Shelagh replied. She was relieved that someone had told her this, it had been playing greatly on her mind. She continued. "I need something to occupy my mind, I'm not used to having so much time"

"You have so many gifts Shelagh"

"Oh, I don't know about that." She felt herself blushing slightly again.

"You have energy and compassion and intelligence and a voice I have seldom heard matched" Sister Julienne replied kindly.

"I only sing in church now." Shelagh said, though as she said it, she wondered why it was the case.

"Have you thought of joining a choir? Poplar choral society has a wonderful repertoire." Sister Julienne enquired.

"I thought I heard their director had retired?" Shelagh replied, wondering where Sister Julienne was going.

"Yes, but the choir itself is still going strong, I don't doubt they would welcome you with open arms."

"I'm sure I could try," Shelagh said thoughtfully, musing over the possibility of singing again.

"You could take Timothy," Sister Julienne suggested. "He plays the piano and violin so well, perhaps, he could accompany the choir. And it could be something you do together. He is very fond of you."

Shelagh smiled. "I'll see if he wants to come. Thank you Sister."

"My pleasure, my beautiful girl." Sister Julienne replied, standing up to hug Shelagh. She wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," her voice broke, "Mother." Shelagh said.

"Go on, my dear." Sister Julienne said, letting go of her, "You get that voice of yours ready for rehearsals."

Shelagh kissed Sister Julienne's cheek, and the two women left the office and wandered down the corridor towards the front door of Nonnatus House. Sister Julienne waved Shelagh goodbye, before returning to her office, the revelations of the last hour mulling over in her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Sister Julienne sat at her desk staring at the empty chair where Shelagh had sat and delivered her devastating news. She replayed the conversation which they had had, over and over again her mind, wondering whether she had said the right thing. She would not have been able to forgive herself if she had not.

Ever since the day they married, Sister Julienne had been waiting for the day when Shelagh would arrive at Nonnatus House, shuffle nervously into her office and then sit on that very chair and tell her that she was expecting her and Patrick's baby. She imagined the look of joy and wonderment which would have adorned Shelagh's face, how she would giggle shyly as she formed the words of her news, and the way she would delicately place her hand on the place the baby lay. She imagined her own reaction to the news, how she would hold Shelagh tight to her, shed tears and be unable to control an urge to stroke her abdomen. In fact, she thought that was why, some four months or so after the wedding, Shelagh had arrived at Nonnatus House this morning.

She remembered when she first met Shelagh Mannion, as she was then. A shy, pale, thin young girl of twenty-two, recently qualified as a midwife and about to take her vows. They had sat together in this very room and had tea and cake, just as they had today. She had been enchanted by her thick, yet gently melodic, Scottish accent and enquired as to whether her parents minded her being so far from home. It was then that she learned that Shelagh had lost her mother as a small child and her father more recently. The innocence and the vulnerability of the girl in front of her stirred up emotions deep inside her, emotions which she had never felt before. She had always been sure that the religious life, rather than marriage and motherhood, was her calling in life, but this girl, exactly the right age to be her daughter, made her question what might have been. She had never been in any kind of relationship, other than with God, and had never really thought that she had missed out, until she met Shelagh, and she began wondering what it was really like to be a mother. Her work as a midwife, of course, brought her face to face on a daily basis with many aspects of motherhood, but this almost raw emotional aspect of mothering had escaped her senses. She knew from the moment she set eyes on her, that she had to look after this little girl, to be the mother which she did not have.

Shelagh Mannion took her vows and became Sister Bernadette. Over the next months and years, the shy little girl grew into a confident young woman, a skilled midwife and a teacher and mentor for both the nurses and Sister's alike. Intelligent, sensitive, and quick witted, she was loved by everyone in Nonnatus House. She loved her work, and relished the challenges which life threw at her. Though, if she had any problems, she would always turn to Sister Julienne. In the early days, she would come to her when she was frightened, when she had had a nightmare, or when she was feeling unwell, often wanting nothing more than a cuddle. Later on, she would come to her when she needed reassurance or to discuss a particularly vexing case. And Sister Julienne always made time for her.

Sister Julienne sighed. She remembered the one day when she did not have time for Shelagh, the day when she wanted to talk to her about her feelings for Dr Turner. She had noticed that Shelagh was unhappy. She had been much more withdrawn than usual, not taking her usual interest in what the nurses were doing in the evenings, praying in the chapel far more than usual. And when Shelagh came to her that day, the day she needed her mother more than at any other time, when she needed her guidance, her love, her reassurance that what she wanted was not wrong, was the day her mother could not be with her. It was only after visiting her in the sanatorium that she learned Shelagh's innermost secret. She regretted not talking to her that day, and would do, she felt, forever. "I will never fail you again" she said aloud, "Never!"

The baby's nightdress lay on her desk. She picked it up and held it up to the light streaming in through the window. The white material was fine and light, it would not have been a cheap cloth. Shelagh was a fine dressmaker, and the intricate stitching bore witness to her skills. "Cross-stitches" she thought "Like kisses." With that, tears began to well up in her eyes. Putting the tiny garment down, she crossed herself and prayed aloud

"Glorious St. Raymond, filled with compassion for those who invoke thee, and with love for those who suffer heavily laden with the weight of Shelagh's troubles, I cast myself at thy feet and humbly beg of thee to take her under thy special protection. Cease not to intercede for Shelagh until my request is granted. Amen."

She paused.

"Please, God, please make my little girl happy. She has suffered so much, please make her happy."

She looked at the nightdress again. TB was a terrible disease, she knew that, but some sufferers were lucky. She hoped Shelagh would be one of them.

"I'm not giving up hope" she thought "I can't, not now."

She picked the nightdress up and folded it as small as she could, before stowing it into the folds of her habit. Opening her office door, and checking to see if the corridor was empty, she crept through the door and silently up the stairs to her cell. On entering, she sat on the floor by her bed and reached underneath it. She pulled out a slightly battered cardboard box. Inside were various handmade items: a patchwork blanket; a bonnet; a pair of booties; a stuffed toy bear. On one side of the box was scrawled "Things for Shelagh" in thick black pen. She had also been making things for some months. She placed the nightdress inside the box and then replaced it under her bed.

"Until they are needed" she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Summer approached. The weather became warmer, the days grew longer, and Shelagh began to blossom. She relished her work, the times she spent with the other nurses, directing Poplar Choral Society, and most of all, her family. She loved her boys more than she could possibly describe. The pain of her diagnosis became easier to bear as she accepted that God had already given her so much. The pain did occasionally raise its ugly head when she was tired or alone, but she learned to deal with things. Telling her friends and Sister Julienne in particular, had greatly helped; she knew she always had someone who loved her to talk to.

Shelagh had been looking forward to Timothy finishing school for the summer more than anything. On the days when she was not working, they spent time together. They went for long walks; baked biscuits and cakes; played games; went shopping, which was much to Timothy's annoyance; played music and sang together and spent many hours just talking. She cherished every hour she spent with him. And when Patrick came home in the evening, her world was complete. God had given her the gift of love, and she knew her purpose in life was to share it with Patrick and Timothy.

September came and the Turner's busy life continued. Timothy had passed his 11-plus and had won a place at Grammar School. On his first day Patrick and Shelagh had wanted to drive him there, but Timothy was having none of it, and insisted on getting the bus.

"My name's not Shelagh, I can get on the right bus!" he protested. Eventually they agreed, as long as they could wave him off from the bus stop.

"Alright," Timothy said after some deliberation, "but only if you are hidden behind the fence!"

Shelagh shed a tear as she and Patrick watched Timothy, from behind the fence, get onto the bus. He looked much older than his eleven years, in his new blazer and cap. Patrick saw her and put a gentle arm round her. She snuggled into him.

"Our little boy is growing up so fast." Shelagh whimpered, trying to hold back further tears.

"I know, our little man." Patrick replied.

Autumn soon turned to winter, bringing snow, ice and freezing smogs to the East End. Winter was the busiest time for the nurses and doctors, with winter ailments, and injuries resulting from trips and slips, adding to their already heavy workloads. Both Patrick and Shelagh found themselves working longer into the evenings, spending less and less time with each other and Timothy. Poplar Choral Society were preparing for two concerts, Handel's Messiah in early December, and carols on Christmas Eve, which was taking up ever more of Shelagh's precious time. Their family time was further decreased by the increased amount of homework which Timothy now received. Whereas he used to do his homework in the kitchen, he now would hide himself away in his room, only appearing when he was hungry or thirsty. Shelagh knew that he wanted to do well at school, and she was so proud of him, but she missed their chats over tea and biscuits in the afternoon.

As December dawned, Shelagh began looking forward to her first Christmas with her new family. Last year, she had decided, did not count, as she was not yet officially a Turner. Timothy finished school the Friday before Christmas and had returned home slightly later than usual, looking rather sheepish, before dashing straight up the stairs to his room. Shelagh had heard sounds of drawers and cupboards being opened and shut, but did not question him when he came down five minutes later. She just hugged him.

Patrick was off work the next day, so the three of them stayed at home and decorated the house. Fred brought round a Christmas tree first thing in the morning, "I won't ask where he got it from!" Shelagh giggled, which they decorated with ribbons and coloured balls. After lunch, the three of them stayed in the kitchen together. Patrick and Timothy made enough paper chains to encircle the house several times, and Shelagh made mince pies and jam tarts, several of which disappeared from the cooling rack while she was not looking. By the end of the day, the Turner house was filled with festive cheer and familial warmth which had been lacking recently in their busy lives. Curled up on the sofa that evening, Patrick on the right, she on the left and Timothy in the middle, a crackling fire and Christmas just round the corner, she could not describe how blessed she was.

The days leading up to Christmas were as busy as ever. The Sisters tried to plan their work so that Christmas Day was as free as possible, with only emergencies and those needing daily care being treated. The latter looked as though it could be finished by 10:30, and there were only a few women who could possibly go into labour that day; Cynthia drew the short straw, so she was on call. Thankfully, the babies of Poplar stayed still that Christmas. In light of this, Sister Julienne had decided to invite everyone round to Nonnatus House for Christmas lunch. "The whole family round for Christmas," she had said gleefully.

Shelagh initially wanted to spend her first family Christmas just with Patrick and Timothy, but Patrick talked her round.

"The nurses and the Sisters are our family too," he said "and playing party games with just three people is nowhere near as fun! We'll open presents and have Christmas breakfast, just the three of us together, then we'll go to Nonnatus and join the fun!"

"Are you sure that is alright?" Shelagh asked.

"Of course it is" Patrick said. He paused. "It's been many years since Tim and I had a real Christmas, and the reason that we are having one now is because of the people of Nonnatus House. Without them, we would not have been brought together. We would not be standing here having this conversation." He kissed her forehead "I cannot think of another group of people who I want to spread Christmas with. Also," he paused and smirked "I don't fancy saying "no" to Sister Julienne, I don't think she would forgive either of us."

Shelagh was about to make a comment about how Sister Julienne would always forgive, but did not, as although she would not admit it, she agreed with Patrick.

"I'll tell her to expect three Turners for Christmas lunch then."

Shelagh was wide awake first thing on Christmas morning. She had hardly had any sleep, having returned late from Midnight Mass, still buzzing from the carol concert earlier that evening. She could not wait to see the look on Timothy's face when he opened his presents. She had spent the previous morning lovingly wrapping them whilst he was out having snowball fights with the other children in the street, attaching labels and coloured bows with delicate care. She was not sure how long she lay there for, but soon there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Merry Christmas Mum and Dad" came Timothy's voice.

He wandered in, with two untidily wrapped presents in his hand. Patrick, who had been fast asleep prior to Timothy's arrival, was now wide awake. Shelagh looked lovingly at her son. "That's what he must have been stashing away on the last day of school," she thought.

"Merry Christmas son," Patrick said ruffling Timothy's hair.

"Yes Merry Christmas" Shelagh said, gesticulating to him to come round to her side of the bed. Timothy came round and Shelagh pulled him towards her, and hugged him. Once she let him go, Timothy said,

"Mum this is yours," handing her the smallest of the two presents. "And Dad this is yours."

Timothy stood at the end of the bed, waiting for them to open their gifts. Patrick and Shelagh looked at each other, slightly suspiciously. They did not say anything, but they knew that both were asking "Did you know about this?" And they knew the answer was "No."

Shelagh cracked first and tore the paper from her present. Inside was a long silk scarf, in a mixture of purples and blues. The material was so fine against her hands, it was beautiful. She looked at Timothy, astounded.

"It's beautiful, thank you so much."

Timothy smiled, and then looked expectantly at his father. Patrick began opening his present. A thick-knit, grey-merle sweater emerged from the wrapping paper. The wool was softer than any he had ever felt.

"Are you trying to influence our dress sense Tim?" Patrick said with a grin on his face. Seeing the look on his sons face, he continued "I love it. It'll keep me warm when I'm out on call in all weathers."

"Now Timothy, if you go downstairs, there might be something for you," Shelagh said. "We'll be there in a minute."

Timothy disappeared as fast as his legs could carry him. When he was out of earshot, Patrick said.

"How did he get the money for these? They would have cost him far more than his pocket money would buy."

"They're homemade," Shelagh said, "There are no labels on them." She suspected someone at Nonnatus House made them. "It doesn't matter where they came from, I'm just so happy to receive a present from my son. Speaking of whom, we better go downstairs, Merry Christmas, darling." She planted a kiss on his lips.

"And to you too, gorgeous!" Patrick replied, his voice muffled slightly by the contact of his wife's lips.

Ten minutes later, the living room was covered in discarded wrapping paper, and Timothy was sat in the middle of the floor surrounded by his presents. New toys, books, sweets and clothes covered the floor. He grinned from ear to ear. Timothy's glee sent a wave of joy through Shelagh's heart.

There were two unwrapped presents remaining under the tree after Timothy had opened his. Patrick bought Shelagh new lingerie, which she had opened, blushed at the sight of and then hid back in the wrappings. There was a bra, panties, suspenders and stockings, all in exquisite black silk and lace. They were beautiful, and exactly the right size, but they were a lot more risqué than what she usually wore. He growled quietly in her ear as she hid them away. She blushed scarlet. She bought him a cigarette case, with his initials engraved on it. "Since my name is on it, does that mean that they are _my_ cigarettes?" he asked playfully, knowing her partiality to one of his Henley's. She grinned back at him.

After clearing up the mess which Timothy had made in the living room, Patrick and Shelagh set about making cooked breakfast. Three plates of sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, beans, black pudding and fried bread were soon demolished, washed down with mugs of tea. A sense of contentment radiated from the three Turners.

"Delicious!" said Timothy.

"I'm full already," Shelagh said, tracing circles on her stomach, "I have no idea how I'm going to fit Christmas lunch in here as well!"

"You will have to," Timothy replied "Otherwise Sister Julienne will be upset!"

"We better start getting ready," Patrick said looking at his watch and getting up from the table. "We need to leave in about an hour, and we don't want to be late!"

Shelagh and Timothy exchanged glances and, try as they might, they could not stifle snorts of laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

At one o'clock sharp the three Turners arrived at Nonnatus House. Patrick and Timothy were wearing their best shirts and ties, and had Brylcreemed their hair into place. Shelagh wore a red dress with long sleeves and a full skirt and a white shawl, and had kept her hair loose. The cut of the dress showed off her delicate figure perfectly, but left plenty of room for the amount of Christmas lunch which she knew she would be expected to eat. Timothy knocked excitedly on the large wooden door.

"Merry Christmas!" said Sister Julienne as she opened the door. "Come on in out of the cold, we have the fire going in the sitting room and lunch won't be long. Can I interest you in a pre-dinner tipple?" There was a bright glow on Sister Julienne's face, and both Turner's suspected it was not just because she had been in the hot kitchen.

The three Turners stopped short as they walked into the best sitting room of Nonnatus House, it was almost unrecognisable. For a start, it was fuller and noisier than any of them could recall. Sister's Evangelina and Monica Joan were sat nearest the fire, looking giddy with drink already. Sister Winifred was sat on the floor, a sherry in one hand and Freddie's teddy bear in the other, trying to attract the little boy's attention. Trixie, Cynthia, and Jenny were stood chatting by one of the cabinets, and Shelagh was convinced she saw Trixie pull a large bottle of gin out of it and top their glasses up. Chummy and Peter were curled up together on the sofa with their drinks, watching Sister Winifred and Freddie. Fred and Mrs B. were deep in conversation. Out of the kitchen, when Fred was not getting in the way, the two of them got on very well. Cliff Richard was playing on the record player, and Shelagh recognised many of Jenny and Trixie's LPs stacked next to it. A six foot high Christmas tree, covered with decorations, filled one end of the room, there were even more paper chains than in the Turner's living room, and multicoloured candles were placed on every available surface. As promised, the fire was roaring and every cushion looked plumped up and inviting. Everyone looked happy, Shelagh thought, and she was glad that they had joined them.

Sister Julienne handed Patrick and Shelagh generous measures of sherry. Handing Timothy a glass of lemonade, she asked kindly,

"Did you get some lovely presents Timothy?"

"Yes thank you," he replied. He dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper and made sure no-one else could hear him, "And so did Mum and Dad, thank you for making them and telling me where to get the materials from."

"Not a problem, my dear, it was my pleasure." Pausing to place a hand on Timothy's shoulder and gently stroking it. "I would do anything for you and your parents."

Fifteen minutes later, Sister Julienne announced that lunch was ready, and everyone filed into the dining room. The long dining room table heaved under the weight of the spread: roast goose and pork with apple sauce and crackling, both provided by Fred, with no questions asked about the former; stuffing; roast potatoes; carrots; parsnips; Brussels sprouts; Swede; peas; and gallons of bread sauce and gravy. The sight of the spread brought gasps and "ooohs" from the entire party. After saying grace, they began to tuck in. The table was very cosy with fourteen of them round it, Freddie still being in his highchair, but nobody minded being elbowed as their neighbours reached for the platters, terrines and jugs. Chummy and Peter had brought the case of wine which Chummy's father had sent them for Christmas, which no-one hesitated in indulging in, so by the time they had polished off their third helpings of everything, most of the party were feeling a little hazy and very giggly.

Cynthia and Sister Julienne cleared the table and brought out an enormous Christmas pudding, a Yule Log and jugs of cream and custard. A red-faced, and very merry, Sister Evangelina, decided that one of the men should have the honour of lighting the Christmas pudding, with the first one to find the brandy being the winner. Fred, Patrick and Peter eyed each other up like boxers waiting for the bell, ready for the challenge.

"Three…two…one!" she counted down, "GO!"

The three men ran from the table, pushing and shoving each other out the way like school boys in the playground. Jenny and Trixie who were nearest the door jumped up and watched them run down the corridor.

"Come on Fred!" shouted Jenny.

"It's in Sister Julienne's bottom drawer!" shouted Trixie.

Laughter erupted from the table, even from Sister Julienne.

"Only joking!" Trixie shouted again.

A few minutes and several crashes later, Patrick stumbled back into the dining room, out of breath, his shirt hanging out and his hair dishevelled, with the bottle of brandy raised triumphantly above his head. Fred and Peter followed him in, looking crestfallen and even more dishevelled than Patrick. The whole room erupted into cheers and laughter, even Shelagh, who had not been entirely in favour of the contest, saw the funny side of her husband's behaviour. Chummy and Mrs B. consoled the losers.

"So where was the brandy?" Sister Winifred asked.

"Sister Monica Joan's knitting bag!" Patrick replied, gasping for breath and holding the back of his chair to steady himself.

The room erupted with laughter again, and the nuns eyed Sister Monica Joan with suspicion. The elderly nun merely smiled and picked up her spoon expectantly. Patrick took this as an indication to get on with lighting the pudding, but in his rush to comply, he poured so much brandy on it that it flamed for several minutes.

After pudding and coffee, everyone helped with the washing up, and then they retired to the sitting room. The rest of the day was spent playing party games. As Patrick had said, party games were definitely more fun played with a big group of friends. Timothy did not stop smiling as he ran round the house, giggling with glee as he joined in the games. Nonnatus House was so big and there were plenty of places to hide. Trixie managed to squeeze herself into a cupboard in the kitchen, and was there for over half an hour before she was found. Cynthia and Sister Winifred had to pull her out again. During a game of Sardines, Fred had found Sister Julienne, Shelagh and Chummy in Jenny's wardrobe, but was gentlemanly enough to not squeeze in with them, deciding to hide under the bed instead. Sister Monica Joan was soon banned from Charades after trying to act out complex philosophical theories.

By 9:30, everyone had collapsed into the comfy chairs in the sitting room, the smiles on their faces illuminated by the flickering candles and the dying embers of the open fire. Sister Julienne brought round mugs of Horlicks, mince pies, Christmas cake and hot buttered toast. Despite everyone saying that they could not eat a thing, everything was polished off. After they had their suppers, those who were on duty the next morning bid everyone goodnight. Chummy and Peter had already taken Freddie home, and Patrick and Shelagh, having looked at Timothy who was falling asleep on the sofa, decided it was time to go home too.

After wrapping up warm again, the Turners headed for the door. Sister Julienne opened the door for them, and Shelagh and Timothy hugged her goodnight. Patrick kissed her on the cheek before saying,

"Thank you, Sister for a wonderful Christmas."

Sister Julienne blushed at Patrick's gesture. She could not remember the last time a man had kissed her. She found the gesture strangely pleasurable, even though she knew that had he not been drinking, he would not have dared to do it. She stroked his arm tenderly. She waved goodbye, standing in the doorway of Nonnatus House until the car was out of sight. She then climbed the stairs to her cell, reflecting on the wonderful day she had had, with all of her family.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the festive period passed far too quickly for Shelagh's liking. Patrick had to work for most of the time that Timothy was off school, so he had negotiated with Nonnatus House to allow Shelagh to be off work until Timothy went back. Sister Evangelina had grumbled about them being short staffed, but Sister Julienne said that they would manage. Both Shelagh and Patrick were most appreciative.

The weather between Christmas and New Year was cold, windy and very wet, so Shelagh and Timothy spent the week at home together. The cold weather and extra time which she had gained inspired Shelagh to spend the afternoons making comfort food for her family. Pies, soups, stews, cakes, biscuits and steamed pudding and custard filled the Turner's house and their stomachs. None of them could remember the last time which they had eaten so well, not counting Christmas Day at Nonnatus House, of course.

The Turners celebrated New Year at home together. Jenny, Trixie and Cynthia had invited Shelagh to see in the New Year in one of their favourite drinking haunts, but Shelagh had declined their offer. She wanted to see 1960 in with Patrick. Timothy had been allowed to sit up, but he had fallen asleep at about 10:30. Patrick carried him up to bed, put him into his pyjamas and then returned to Shelagh. He poured two glasses of whiskey, and they sat curled up on the sofa.

"A new year," Patrick said after a few moments, "A new decade. A new start."

Shelagh looked round at him as he finished the sentence. She knew what he was referring to.

"We will see what 1960 brings" she said, snuggling closer into him and sipping her whiskey. Patrick wrapped an arm round her middle.

"Everything will be alright" he said, kissing her hair. "Shall we dance, Mrs Turner?" he said, letting go of her suddenly and getting up.

"I'm wearing slacks and slippers!" Shelagh half protested, half giggled.

"So am I," Patrick said, "But it is so long since I have danced with you."

He put some gentle dance music on the record player, and took Shelagh's hand. He waltzed his wife around the room, holding her tenderly and kissing her as they moved around, unable to take their eyes off each other. Shelagh felt herself getting lost in the closeness of her husband's embrace.

At midnight, they listened to the nearby church's bells toll in the New Year. Patrick poured them both another whiskey, and, handing Shelagh hers said,

"Happy New Year, Shelagh."

"Happy New Year, Patrick." she replied, knocking her glass against his and taking a swig. "Here's to health and happiness."

"Health and happiness," Patrick replied.

They drained their glasses, and then Shelagh looked at Patrick and said,

"I think we need to really see in the New Year in style." Patrick raised an eyebrow. "I'm wearing my new lingerie," Shelagh replied with a shy grin.

They giggled at each other, and Patrick picked her up and carried her to their bedroom.

Timothy went back to school on the Monday after New Year, and Shelagh should have gone back to work the same day. She had spent the previous day coughing and sneezing and by the evening had a raised temperature. Patrick had sent her to bed, and when she had not improved on Monday morning, phoned Nonnatus House to explain the situation. Since her bout of TB, Shelagh had become much more sensitive to coughs and colds, and they affected her much more than it would anyone else. By the end of the week she felt well enough to be able to work again, but to make sure she was no longer contagious, both Patrick and Sister Julienne told her to stay at home until Monday. Knowing that they were both right, she reluctantly agreed.

Monday morning arrived and, after nearly three weeks at home, Shelagh was looking forward to getting back to work. She started to dress in a blouse and skirt suit, looking forward to wearing something other than her nightdress and the loose slacks which she had been lounging round the house in for the last fortnight. She pulled her favourite pencil skirt up her legs to her waist, and reached round to do the zip up. She could not do it up. She breathed in and tried again. The zip did not move.

"The zip must be stuck" she thought. "Patrick" she called to her husband who was in the bathroom "The zip on my skirt is stuck, can you sort it out for me?"

"I didn't need to know that!" called Timothy from his room.

"Coming Shelagh," Patrick replied, "And Timothy, don't be so cheeky."

Patrick came into the bedroom and took hold of the back of Shelagh's skirt. He gently tugged on the zip, which did not seem to be stuck, but it certainly was not going to do up, there was at least two inches between the two halves of the zip.

"The zip isn't stuck Shelagh, but it isn't going to do up. When did you last wear this skirt?"

Shelagh was baffled. "About a month ago I suppose, maybe a little longer. I must have eaten too much and lounged around too much while I have been off work. I'll take it off and wear something else."

She slipped her skirt off and it was then that Patrick caught sight of his wife's stomach. He stared at her. He was sure it looked different, more rounded perhaps. He shook his head, thinking he was imagining it. She walked past him to the wardrobe and, seeing her side on, he had an astounding thought. He wondered. Could it be possible? He had to know.

"When was your last period Shelagh?" he asked boldly, verging on sternly he realised after the words left his mouth.

Shelagh stopped dead, staring at her husband and flushed scarlet. Seeing his wife's reaction, Patrick dropped the tone of his voice.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so aggressive."

"Why do you need to know that, what has my cycle got to do with anything?"

"Lie on the bed" Patrick said, he hands shaking and his heart racing.

"What?"

"Do it, please" he said, reaching into his medical bag that was dumped on the floor for his stethoscope. "And please, when was your last period" he asked again, a pleading tone in his voice.

"September, just after Timothy went back to school" Shelagh replied, "But…"

Before she could finish her sentence, Patrick had unbuttoned her blouse and placed his stethoscope on her abdomen. His heart raced faster and faster. He listened. He thought he heard something. He moved his stethoscope. He heard something, but he could not tell for sure what it was. He felt every inch of Shelagh's lower abdomen. There was something, he was sure. Or was it his imagination? Was he so desperate for it to be true that he was imagining it? He needed another opinion.

"I'm phoning Nonnatus House." he said, heading out of the bedroom door.

"Patrick, tell me what's happening, right now." Shelagh pleaded. She looked frightened and confused. She had not twigged at all.

"I need a midwife's opinion," he said, his voice trailing off when he saw the look on Shelagh's face.

"Stop it" she whimpered, trying to force back tears, "That's not funny, you know I can't be…"

"I know that it would be unlikely, but not impossible," Patrick said, moving to the bed to gently consol his wife, "I need an expert's opinion." He kissed her cheek and held her tight. She clung onto him. They were both shaking now, Patrick with excitement, Shelagh with fear.

"But I would have noticed…" she insisted.

"Not necessarily, you have been incredibly busy, your cycles have been erratic and not everyone gets first trimester symptoms, do they?"

He felt her shake her head against his chest.

"Please, let me phone them."

She let him go, and he ran downstairs to the telephone as fast as he could, jumping the last three steps. He dialled 459 and tried to calm his breathing whilst he waited for an answer.

"Nonnatus House, midwife speaking" came Cynthia's gentle voice at the end of the telephone.

"Cynthia, thank goodness," Patrick gasped, he had been dreading hearing Trixie or Sister Evangelina's voice, he composed himself. "It's Patrick Turner, I need, I think, will you come and examine Shelagh, and bring Sister Julienne if she's there."

"She's here. Is Shelagh alright?" Cynthia inquired.

"I hope so," Patrick said "But I would appreciate your expert opinion, but don't say anything to anyone, yet."

Cynthia understood. "We'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thank you Cynthia."

He put the phone down and sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. What if he was right? This would be the perfect start to the year. All their dreams would come true. But what if he was wrong? He would have built Shelagh's hopes up and then cruelly dashed them again. He did not think he could live with that guilt.

"God, if you are out there," he murmured, "Please may I be right."

His peaceful moment was shattered by Timothy shouting "Bye" and running out the door to school. When he had closed the door behind him, Patrick ran back upstairs to Shelagh. She was dressed in her slacks and sat on their bed. He sat next to her.

"Sister Julienne and Cynthia are on their way," he said kindly, "They'll look after you."

Shelagh did not respond, she just stared into space.

"What's happening Patrick?" she whimpered after a few minutes. "I don't understand."

"Don't worry, everything will become clear, it'll be alright."

The doorbell rang a moment later.

"That will be them" Patrick said. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Patrick," she replied, desperately trying to smile through her fear.

Patrick opened the front door and saw the worried faces of Cynthia and Sister Julienne staring back at him.

"She's upstairs, in bed," he said fumbling slightly over his words. "I think something, wonderful, has happened, but I don't know for sure." His voice completely cracked.

"Stay here," Sister Julienne said, "We'll go to her."

The two women climbed up the stairs and walked into the Turner's bedroom. Shelagh looked terrified. Sister Julienne ran to her and put both arms round her shoulders. Shelagh began to cry, and shook with fear.

"It's alright, I'm here." Sister Julienne said gently.

"Are you alright with me examining you, Shelagh?" Cynthia asked, "Or would you prefer Sister Julienne too?"

"No Cynthia, I'd like you too," Shelagh sniffed. She turned to Sister Julienne. "Will you stay and hold me?"

"Of course, my dear, I would do anything for you."

Safe with her mother by her side, Shelagh relaxed enough to allow Cynthia to examine her, closing her eyes so she did not have to watch her friend at work.

"Shelagh" Cynthia said after a few minutes. "When was your last period?"

"Beginning of September," Shelagh responded.

"Well, by my reckoning, you are about four and a half months pregnant, so that is about right, congratulations, sweetie."

Cynthia came round to hug Shelagh, but before she got there, Sister Julienne had completely smothered her.

"Oh Shelagh" Sister Julienne wept, "Congratulations!" She stood up to allow Cynthia to hug her. Shelagh sat bolt upright, stunned.

"A baby? A real baby? My baby? Am I really pregnant?" she stammered.

"Quite definitely" Cynthia said, letting her go. "Due sometime towards the middle of June I'd say."

Shelagh burst into tears. "Patrick…" she started between sobs.

"We'll get him" Sister Julienne said, beckoning to Cynthia. Cynthia picked up her instruments, winked at Shelagh and then followed Sister Julienne out of the bedroom door.

"Well…" Patrick said as he saw Cynthia and Sister Julienne appear at the bottom of the stairs.

"Go and talk to her." Sister Julienne said as neutrally as she could manage.

Patrick sprinted past the two of them, taking the stairs three at a time. He composed himself before walking into the room. He saw the tears running down his wife's face.

"Oh no," he gasped "I'm so sorry."

"Patrick, shush." she said. He looked taken aback and confused. Shelagh continued "We are going to be parents, parents together." She took his hand, and placed it on her abdomen. "These are tears of joy. You were right sweetheart. I didn't think it could possibly happen. But it has. It will."

Patrick's face lit up, fifteen years seemed to melt off his careworn brow. "Really, when?"

"The middle of June, Cynthia thinks." And with that, she burst into tears again and hugged him.

Cynthia and Sister Julienne poked their heads round the door. On seeing them, Patrick ran to the door, picked Cynthia up, and spun her round the room before planting a kiss on her cheek, and dropping her rather unceremoniously. He then turned to Sister Julienne, paused, before deciding that just a hug was a more appropriate gesture.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Patrick said, skipping round the bedroom.

The three women grinned at him; he looked like an excitable puppy.

"Does anyone want a drink?" he asked gleefully.

"Patrick, it's only 9:30!" Shelagh said.

"I don't care, it's not often you find out that you are going to be a father!"

"No thank you, we have rounds to do." Cynthia replied.

"Yes, sorry" Patrick said, composing himself. "I better let you go."

"Cynthia" Shelagh called, "Will you be my midwife?"

"I would be honoured," Cynthia replied.

Patrick let Cynthia and Sister Julienne out, and then ran back upstairs, jumped on the bed, and showered his wife's body and her stomach in particular in kisses.

"It's going to be a wonderful year," he said.

"The fun is just beginning" Shelagh replied, stroking her stomach with one hand and Patrick's face with the other.


	6. Chapter 6

Shelagh's pregnancy, all things considered, progressed well and went without major problems. Patrick and Sister Julienne had insisted that she did not work past six months gone, so she could have plenty of rest and to minimise the stress on her body during the final months. She felt very strange attending the ante-natal clinic, she felt she should be sat behind her desk, not waiting in the queue to be led behind a screen by one of her friends.

Timothy had been extremely excited ever since they had told him a few weeks after they received the news. When Shelagh had begun to show, he liked to sit with this head or his hand on her stomach, listening to and feeling his new brother or sister moving. He was not pleased when the baby managed to kick him square in the nose one night, but decided to forgive them. He and Patrick spent several weekends turning the cluttered spare room into a beautiful nursery. They had repainted the whole room in white and pale yellow, made new furniture, and chosen new curtains, carpet and soft furnishings. It was finished in early May, and Shelagh took great pleasure in standing in the middle of the room, taking it all in, imagining her baby lying in the newly assembled cot.

A week before her due date, she went to her final ante-natal appointment. She was tired and had been slightly out of breath, but that was to be expected, especially as the baby was quite big and she was hardly the biggest. Cynthia examined her and smiled.

"Everything is looking wonderful Shelagh, baby has turned…" they both giggled at the pun, "and their heartbeat is lovely and strong."

"I'm so glad" Shelagh said. She sighed and stroked her stomach, "I still can't quite believe it is real, all those months I thought that I would never be able to conceive, but then a little miracle happened."

"Would you like a boy or a girl, or does it not matter?"

"I don't mind, I think Patrick would like a daughter to spoil, but I just want him or her to be healthy."

Ten days later, as the sun was rising on what promised to be a glorious June day, the telephone rang at Nonnatus House.

"Nonnatus House, midwife speaking" Cynthia said.

"It's Patrick. I think it is all systems go at the Turners." There was an excited tension in his voice.

"We are on the way."

Cynthia ran up the stairs to Sister Julienne's cell, and knocked on her door. When she replied, Cynthia said "Shelagh's in labour." She appeared two minutes later, fully dressed and holding a battered cardboard box. Cynthia looked at the box, puzzled, but Sister Julienne did not elaborate. They headed down the corridor together, grabbed their medical bags, went down to the bicycle shed, and out into the dawn.

Shelagh's contractions had started the previous evening. Patrick had wanted to call Nonnatus House several hours before he did, but Shelagh had told him not to be so silly. "It's not time yet, and I should know, I'm a midwife before you start protesting!" Her contractions suddenly became more severe about 4:30, so she allowed Patrick to call. Cynthia and Sister Julienne arrived just after 5:00.

Patrick let them in. He looked nervous, sweating slightly and his hands were shaking. Judging by the aroma arising from his clothes, he had already smoked several Henleys that morning. He looked as though he had hardly slept. Cynthia and Sister Julienne assumed this meant that Shelagh had not slept either.

"Pains have been about every ten minutes," he said, a noticeable shake in his voice, "There's hot water and towels and things in the room. Will you let me know if I'm needed, for whatever reason?"

"Yes we will" Sister Julienne said, patting his arm. "Make yourself some coffee, we'll look after her."

Shelagh was lying on the bed, her face screwed up in pain as the aftermath of a contraction coursed through her body, her hands gripping the bed sheets.

"Mum," she gasped as she saw Sister Julienne come through the door.

"I'm here" she replied, grabbing Shelagh's hand to help her through the end of the contraction.

"I hate to have to do this to you Shelagh, but you need to have your enema" Cynthia said. Shelagh groaned. "Come on let's get you into the bathroom."

Sister Julienne and Cynthia got Shelagh back into bed after the enema. Another contraction had rippled through her as they walked back from the bathroom. She had to use all her will power not to scream, she did not want to wake Timothy.

"I'm going to examine you Shelagh to see how far along you are," Cynthia said "Is that alright?"

Shelagh nodded, holding onto Sister Julienne's hand.

"You're nearly fully dilated Shelagh, baby's head is in the right position and the heart beat is perfect too. It won't be too long before I want you to start pushing."

More contractions rippled through Shelagh's body, her back arching with the pain. This time she could not stop herself screaming.

"I can't do this, it hurts so much," Shelagh wailed.

"Yes you can," Sister Julienne said, wiping sweat from Shelagh's brow. "You're the strongest and bravest girl I know. You're going to meet your baby very soon, and you're a wonderful mother."

With her next contraction her waters broke, completely soaking the bed. Patrick had left piles of clean sheets and towels in the corner of the room, so Cynthia and Sister Julienne changed the bed and made Shelagh as dry and comfortable as they could. Cynthia examined her again.

"Alright Shelagh" Cynthia said "You're fully dilated now. On the next contraction, I want you to push, alright?"

Shelagh nodded. Sister Julienne squeezed her hand.

They did not have to wait long, a contraction coursed through her body moments later. She pushed as hard as she could. Her screams reverberated around the house. Timothy had woken up and joined his father downstairs. Timothy sat on the sofa, looking nervous, Patrick paced up and down the living room, chain smoking his way through a packet of Henleys. They both flinched with every scream which came from upstairs.

"Baby's head is crowning Shelagh, next pain, I want lots of little pushes and the head will be born."

Shelagh took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the task in hand. Sister Julienne put an arm round her, "Not long now sweetheart." Shelagh screwed up her face with the pain of the contraction.

"Come on Shelagh, little push, come on, another one like that and another, that's it, I can see the head, the head is born Shelagh, now pant, sweetie pant, that's it, good girl."

The contraction passed, Shelagh was exhausted. She gasped for breath, tears ran down her cheeks. Sister Julienne mopped her face. "Nearly there," she said.

"Next contraction, Shelagh, I want you to push with all your might, and then you'll be able to meet your baby." Cynthia said.

"My baby," thought Shelagh, "My baby." All the pain she had felt in her life suddenly melted into insignificance, she was one push away from meeting her baby. The contraction came, and she pushed as hard as she could. She screamed in pain and gripped Sister Julienne's hand as hard as she could.

"Brilliant Shelagh come on, come on, come on, keep going, keep going, yes, yes, oh Shelagh, you have little girl!"

The Turner's daughter coughed and spluttered and then began to cry.

"She's beautiful" Cynthia said.

Shelagh could hardly breathe, she was exhausted, but she did not care, she only wanted one thing.

"My daughter, I want to hold my daughter."

"Cynthia's just cutting the cord, then you can hold her, well done Shelagh" Sister Julienne said, kissing her forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

Cynthia weighed her, "8 pound 6, Shelagh, she's a whopper," then wrapped the baby girl in a towel and handed her to Shelagh. Shelagh's grin was so wide her cheeks hurt.

"Hello wee one," Shelagh cooed, "I'm you're Mummy. And in a minute, you're going to meet your Daddy and your big brother Timmy. They can't wait to meet you. We're all going to be very happy together."

As Sister Julienne watched Shelagh kissing and cuddling her daughter, pangs of maternal pride erupted through her body.

The afterbirth was delivered a few minutes later, and Cynthia cleaned Shelagh up and made her comfortable.

"Can you get Patrick and Timothy please?" Shelagh asked "They'll be very excited."

"Of course" Sister Julienne said, heading towards the door. She skipped down the stairs with the energy of a much younger woman and went into the sitting room. Patrick and Timothy's faces lit up at the sight of her.

"Has she had the baby?" Patrick said.

Sister Julienne nodded "You have a beautiful, healthy daughter Patrick. You've got a little sister Timothy."

Timothy cheered and danced round Sister Julienne, Patrick burst into tears.

"A daughter? Wow!"

"Come up and meet her, Shelagh's ready for visitors."

Patrick and Timothy crept up the stairs after Sister Julienne and followed her into the bedroom. Shelagh was sat up, smiling from ear to ear, holding a towel-wrapped bundle in her arms. Patrick lent over the bed to look at his daughter. There were tears in his eyes. Shelagh handed her to him, and he kissed both of his girls. Timothy looked at the wiggling bundle in his father's arms.

"She has Mum's eyes and your nose" he said, thoughtfully, before saying. "Can I hold her?"

"Yes" Patrick said, "Sit on the bed, and be careful, watch her head."

Timothy held his little sister with the utmost care.

"Have you thought of a name for her yet?" Cynthia asked.

Shelagh and Patrick looked at each other, and then at Sister Julienne. "I think so," Patrick said "Everyone, meet Ruth Julienne Turner."

"Awwww" Cynthia and Timothy squeaked in unison. Sister Julienne blushed.

"Who else could we name her after?" Shelagh said smiling. "Come and hold your granddaughter."

Sister Julienne began to well up. She contained herself and said. "I will in a moment, but first, I must give you something, something which I have waited a long time to give you."

She pulled the cardboard box, which was now even more battered and squashed, out of her medical bag and handed it to Shelagh. Shelagh noticed her name was written on it, and smiled. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the contents of the box as she pulled each item out. Sister Julienne had added various items during Shelagh's pregnancy: the box now contained the patchwork blanket; two bonnets and a woolly hat; threes pair of booties; the stuffed toy bear; two cardigans and a white Christening shawl. But the last item which she pulled out caused Shelagh to burst into a flood of tears.

"My nightdress," Shelagh gasped through the tears, unfolding the tiny garment which she had made so long ago. "You kept it?"

Sister Julienne smiled, "Like you, I began making baby clothes for your child long before you conceived. When you came and told me about the TB scarring, I could not bear the thought of your dreams being dashed so cruelly, I had to believe that one day, you would bear a child. I prayed night after night for your intentions. I kept the nightdress, and the things I had made, because giving them away would be admitting that I had lost faith in your dream coming true. So, your box remained hidden under my bed, until the day your pregnancy was confirmed. From that day onwards, its contents have grown, until today, when I was able to give it to you. I was able to give the gifts a mother would give, to you, the closest thing to a daughter which I will ever have, for your daughter, the miracle daughter which you never believed you could have. I love you Shelagh Turner, and I'm looking forward to getting to know little Ruth, I hope she grows up to be as beautiful, strong and brave as her mother, and as kind and intelligent as her father."

Shelagh, Patrick and Cynthia all had tears streaming down their faces. Timothy lifted Ruth a little off his lap, indicating to Sister Julienne to take her from him. She picked her up and cradled her in her arms.

"Hello Ruth, I'm your Grandmother Julienne. We are going to have so much fun together."


End file.
